-Charles Donalson, African American male, student at

Oak Park and River Forest High School

Good schools aren’t good for everybody. That is one of the things I learned quickly as I began to study schools that were widely celebrated for achievement and diversity, but there was much more beneath the surface. America to Me, a new documentary series directed by Steve James of Hoop Dreams fame, has begun airing on Starz after receiving critical acclaim at Sundance earlier this year. The 10 part series is just four episodes in, but from its opening it’s clear that the series goes beyond celebrating the school’s diversity and is attempting to grapple with race and racism. On this alone, I recommend the series but that doesn’t mean it’s without issues.

The series, so far, highlights the lives of several students at Oak Park and River Forest (OPRF) High School in suburban Illinois. In addition to the students and parents who are followed throughout a year, we hear from faculty, administrators, and school board members. The students are involved in an litany of activities: wrestling, spoken word, cheer, drill, as well as students who do no extracurriculars. There are students who are freshman, seniors, heterosexual, non-binary, biracial, and the list goes one. Despite all this diversity, the main students and families followed by the crew are all Black (or at least have one Black parent). For viewers, this is great for showing what its like to be Black, in its many iterations, in a school like OPRF. Oak Park, as its commonly called, is the kind of school that has great amenities, receives academic accolades, and whose optics look like they’re pulled from a college campus website. Still, the experience of Black students there is markedly different. For example, in 2015, 23% of the student body was Black, but 53% of students who got suspended were Black. For decades now, even in schools that are well-appointed, Black students have bore the brunt on unequal treatment. For Black folks, this is not an entirely new story, but that is also why Charles’ words that open this post are so important. Charles doesn’t start with the achievement gap or Black underperformance–we have no shortage of writing or documentaries on that, instead he highlights the pervasive culture of white advantage.

If there is one thing that is glaringly absent from America to Me it is the voices and experiences of White students and families who accrue the spoils of suburbia whether traversing town or selecting advanced placement courses.

If there is one thing that is glaringly absent from America to Me it is the voices and experiences of White students and families who accrue the spoils of suburbia whether traversing town or selecting advanced placement courses. In my own book, Inequality in the Promised Land, I found it essential to make sure the voices of White families were present for a few reasons. First, by speaking with white families, I heard their perspectives and experiences rather than simply inferring them from the accounts of others. Other scholars who studied suburbs, such as John Ogbu, only studied Black families, and attributed academic failure to Black children’s “academic disengagement” while assuming White families’ achievement was a result of hard-work and high functioning. In the social sciences, long traditions of deficit thinking limit us from seeing what’s actually happening. Second, once I put the voices of White and Black families in conversation the relational dynamic between the two became clearer. Black families were not simply disadvantaged, White families were hyper-advantaged and they routinely hoarded resources.

When it comes to suburban spaces, including the villages of Oak Park and River Forest, the history of racial exclusion is not simply in the past, it shapes where people live today and how people are received in public spaces like schools. The critics’ responses to America to Me have been favorable, but as I read comments on YouTube, IMDB and other sites, they are far more critical. Many of the comments argue that if there is an issue with Black academic success in the school it is rooted in Black children’s effort and their home environment. This old trope has long been challenged by research, but in remains a common explanation among popular audiences, even educators who are meant to help produce equitable learning environments.

The entrenched belief in Black dysfunction and normative White responses is captured in one telling moment in an interview in episode one.  Sami Koester, a student on the cheerleading team, confesses that Deanna Paloian (bka Coach D) the lead cheerleading coach who is white, is now different. “The Coach D that I used to know from when I was 12, she was a lot nicer. She did tell me that she has to put herself in authority more because all the girls are Black and she has to like put up her own fight to make sure that she gets what she wants.” Coach D argues she coaches the girls, who are predominantly black (the drill team in predominantly White), like a football coach and she is not afraid to hurt feelings or be bluntly honest. She peppers her speech with “girlfriends” as she wears a Beyonce themed shirt. Her approach is met with mixed reception from the Black girls under her guidance. Some suggest, “She yells at us like a mom” while others highlight Coach D’s approach may be rooted in her racial mismatch which heightens attitudes and sassiness. The filmmakers don’t make a effort to suggest which came first, adults’ attitudes or children’s responses, but it becomes clear that often the most “well intentioned” can create dangerous environments for Black children.

In episode four, viewers get a deeper look at Aaron Podolner, a White Physics teacher who was born and raised in Oak Park, and his approaches to race inside and outside of the classroom. He “invites” (I’m not sure how much choice they had to actually opt out) two Black students–Jada Bufford and Charles Donalson to read his memoir on race and comment on how he’s handled race in the classroom. In the classroom, Jada challenges Podolner to respect the boundaries of students and mentions how when she asked him not to comment or make jokes about her hair, he persisted. She points out that in his attempt to “relate” he is missing the very students he claims to care about. Podolner misses her point entirely and tone deathly centers himself and his difficulties as he responds,

“I think it’s hardest because we get a lot of pressure here, as teachers, to, like, make a difference, to fix black people, to improve scores. We’re not given any ways to do it. So that’s like, someone like you [motions to Jada and Charles] could be a great resource to us teachers.”

I was literally forced to rewind the show to make sure I heard correctly that Podolner matter of factly invoked the idea that Black children are broken. This is not an uncommon belief among educators, though not often stated. Despite equity commissions and task forces, Black deficit thinking still pervades and governs large parts OPRF. Du Bois famously asked, “How does it feel to be a problem?” and more than 100 years later Black students in OPRF and settings like it could give long monologues on its pains.

In another scene, Podolner sits down with a Jessica Stovall, a Black-White biracial English teacher, as they work to form a teachers equity group to address racial inequality at OPRF. Stovall astutely challenges Poldner, “I understand you’re so passionate about helping your Black students. I know that about you. But I do notice when I start to push you on talking about the miseducation of our White students then you’re less likely to want to engage in those types of conversations.” Podolner describes how he wants to demonstrate to Black and White kids that he “knows more than the average white guy” about Black culture, which he thinks will disturb the classroom dynamics of whiteness and white supremacy. Like many well-intentioned White educators I’ve spoken with and worked with, this attempt at cultural connection does little to disturb white social norms, though I am sure it makes Podolner feel good, all while it silences girls and women like Jada Bufford and Jessica Stovall who desire an entirely different classroom and culture, not one that “gives points” for Black cultural knowledge.

Within each episode, you’re likely to smile at fond moments and grimace at missteps, which is the mark of a compelling series. At core though, I hope the series ultimately listens to the Jada and Charles’ who know OPRF will not be different until it becomes a non-White space. The “browning” of OPRF won’t make it a non-White space; critical engagement and challenging everyday practices of white supremacy like: opportunity hoarding, sliding standards, and deficit thinking will. Making our schools, and this country, non-White spaces will take more than seeing Black suffering, it will mean that White advantages must be relinquished and White accountability must emerge. The omission of White students (as main characters) and families worries me that the project could unintentionally reify ideas that when racism impacts life, the onus on repair and restitution lies with the people most affected by racism. I’ll be watching to see where this goes, I hope you will too!

1) Fasting from alcohol
2) Fasting from additional sugar and sweets
3) Reading Joy James’ “Imprisoned Intellectuals”
4) Leading and participating in a weekly study group for male identified friends on “uprooting patriarchy”
5) Connecting with and building with justice oriented sociologists

There are a million ways to become better and to take inventory of what you’ve done over the past year. In a year where we’ve seen 551 people killed by police, there is much work to be done. In a time when the Black child poverty rate has remained steady while all other groups have declined, there is much work to be done. I’m proud to have such amazing comrades who join me in this month and work daily for liberation. One such person is Marc Lamont Hill. If you haven’t done so already, pick up his new book Nobody: Causalities of America’s War on the Vulnerable, from Ferguson to Flint and Beyond. It’s a powerful read about where we are, how we got here, and what it’s going to take to move us forward!

Since seeing the video last night, it looks like the title has been changed from “Morehouse College Dubois Divas” to “The Du Bois Dance Team.” According to the description, this was a performance at 2015-2016 Mr. Freshman Pageant. The video was shared with ire in a Morehouse fb group I’m in. Brothers raised questions about damaging the brand of Morehouse, why these young folks should not attend our alma mater, and comments were laced with a host of homo and femmephobic rhetoric. I was glad to see the video and to see the four young cats work it out and turn up the crowd. Why you ask? Give my piece for 2010 a read and you’ll understand a bit more. [i uploaded a pdf so it doesn’t get washed away in url scraping].

Too often, people see folks like the ones in this video and write them off as “deviant”, “damaging” and “not-men” without knowing anything of their identification, character or constitution. The Morehouse we should be is one where diversities of gender expression, as well as sexual expression, are welcomed as long as you are doing your best to meet the crown that is placed above your head.

“Whenever you define who are legitimate in suburbs, black residents are excluded. For black families that means the suburbs will not save them. The issues that they have been dealing with in terms of racial profiling will follow them,”

To read the full article click here.

I’ve been thinking about the costs and the processes of getting to unity of late. In a political moment when our nation continues to grapple with police brutality as well as the fall of Bill Cosby from grace– I wonder how we become unified and maintain unity. The simplest form of unity I often observe comes from folks who take a singular social identity and coalesce around its significance for power. For example, someone who is staunchly Black nationalist or Communist will see the aforementioned issues and stress the role of White media in besmirching a Black patriarch or the continued imposition of the state’s power (the enforcer of capitalism) over oppressed (minority) peoples. Either way, the emphasis as on a singularity of issue makes for neat solutions and resolutions around what is being faced and possible responses. As the Last Poets said, “I can’t dig them actions.”

The more seriously I consider the things that are affecting our communities, the more an intersectional framework matters to how I think about its roots and possible responses. Many moons ago, Jelani Cobb wrote (and I paraphrase) that Black folks are no more or no less unified or dysfunctional than any other group of folks on this earth. I believed it when it he wrote it and believe it now. The catch is we can, like all people, become seduced by reductionist thinking. Whether its at a mass march where we start chanting and yelling, “hands up! don’t shoot!” in the face of an unrepentant police force or double clicking a meme on Instagram that suggesting our brothers and sisters are being distracted by the hot topic rather than thinking through politics–quick responses are valued, but they’re not what’s needed. Instead, I see folks like Imani Perry, Tamara Nopper, and Eddie Glaude raise questions (they’re on social media twitter – you should follow them) that make you think about what you intend to accomplish? What are the means? What are likely to the ends? Their questions make people uncomfortable and rightfully so. Too much emphasis on unity of action without complexity of thought is why moments that could be movements often just remain flashpoints (well that and COINTELPRO ain’t too shabby at killing stuff).

For more than 4 months there has been an emerging national dialogue about police violence–one that people have been working on having for years, but this moment was the time that it ripened and expanded. In this moment we have to do things that keep people engaged, but even more so, we’ve got to ask–Why are you here? If you believe Black lives matter, who does not? Which Black lives matter? Does the trans sister in Chicago who is sexually assaulted by a member of her family get covered? Does the conservative brother who stands with NYPD receive your cover? If the government fails to respond to what we demand, what will we do? Are we really demanding the same thing? Are you talking reform or revolution? Which type of revolution are you talking? These may seem to show where we disagree but only by grappling with them will we have a unity worth fighting for, claiming and living with.

There isn’t enough ink to express our pain. Day after day, month after month, year after year, the pain of being Black in America globally is apparent. Moments ago I read the headlines and tweets that told me the NYPD officer  Dan Pantaleo (say his name until it can’t be forgotten, until he’s held responsible) the NYC cop that killed Eric Garner would not be indicted. A week and two days before that I heard news out of Ferguson, Missouri that Darren Wilson would not be indicted. That same day hours before, I watched my beautiful daughter be born into this world. Being Black is like that, valley, peak, valley—in that order.

No matter who it is, the time comes that you realize that being Black is hard and beautiful. You come to learn that your cool, your clothes, your rhythm is quested after like a golden fleece, and then you remember that you’re hated all the same for it. Hated for the thing you inherently possess and ultimately cannot dispossess—trust me, many are trying to give it up, but you can’t. Many are trying to recreate/generate it, but it has to be organic—we synthesize, it can’t be synthesized.

I recently got in an online disagreement with a family member. I gave up arguing online about 2 years ago and my life has been all the better for it, but this time suffering from sleep deprivation courtesy of our bundle of joy, I engaged. My cousin, one of closest loved ones on the planet, posted a status about shopping on Black Friday and tongue-in-cheek told folks to “say something” about her shopping. I was frustrated at her at life.

I remember when I first heard the calls to boycott Black Friday #notonedime, I knew that arm chair theoreticians and activists would sharpen their darts aiming at the hot air balloon of social activism. I knew it’d be a dog pile of, “How is that supposed to help?”, “We need new solutions!”, “What difference will it make?” –you know the standard chorus of consternation. I’d decided that for each post that someone put up like that I’d ignore it and write them off as disaffected, short-sighted haters (which they often are). But truthfully I understand them. I’ve been them. It’s kind of like being at a dance and not really knowing how to dance so rather than stepping out and risk being a fool, you talk about the DJ, you chit chat with your boys, you explain how you don’t like the newest fads … all the while the dance goes on, everyone else is sweating it out and having a good time, and you go home realizing you missed out, but never admitting it. It’s easy to be on the sidelines, it’s hard to put your shoes on the dance floor.

Moral and ethical courage are sometimes in short supply, but we have enough to move ahead, we never needed 100 percent to be on board, just a few committed ones. A few years ago an elder told me, “If everyone who claimed to have marched across that bridge [Edmund Pettus Bridge] was on that bridge the damn bridge would have fallen in!” They’ll come around later … or come around for the victory party. When Fidel Castro was asked about what he’d do differently regarding the Cuban Revolution he said he started with 82 men but he would have started with fewer men but ones who had absolute faith. That’s real rap!

Boycotting Black Friday or Cyber Monday may not be your cup of tea, but neither is the loss of Black life. I am in awe of the young people organizing out of Ferguson and the people who have poured into that community for the past 118 days. The boycotts on Friday or Monday were mass actions that allowed folks without much skin in the game to make a sacrifice, to symbolically and strategically show impact. It worked, no matter what mainstream media says. I’m still not really cool with my cousin for not participating, but she’s not alone. It just means we need to do more work to show folks why we matter, why boycotts matter, why protests matter, why Black lives matter.

We have too many servants and too few activists. Activism is sustained struggle. (Community) Service, often, is for a moment and done. Activism is not a visit to the soup kitchen; it’s not tutoring after school; it’s not collecting donors for a cancer run. Okay, it can be that, but that’s only a small part of it. Activism, in my estimation, has to do more than service the sick or un-well, it’s got to do the work of uprooting the things that injure and press to build a safe space for a thing to live and thrive. Too few of us have a heart for activism, because true activism means you give up something, not once, but daily. It’s a process of dying so others can live—it’s martyrdom, but without the fanfare.

The tweets, the appearances on news media, the op-eds will all die out soon enough, but our willingness to sacrifice and fight must not. We can’t accept a commitment to body cameras and tough language (not policies) around ending police misconduct. The legislation needs to change, I truly believe it does #changethenypd. But more than legislation our entire orientation to Black life must shift. And I mean the lives of Black men and women, all lives matter but our blood runs too freely for us not to demand special attention.

The police don’t love us, and they never did. My dad was a cop and even he knows this, but I’m not sure he’d admit it. No matter how many times you show me a teary eyed boy or a dancing cop, I can’t forget that those moments don’t compensate for the force that they use on our bodies and have been doing so for centuries. Du Bois was right. The police are a new articulation of slavery. He was right – It’s not about diagnosing the problem, the bigger and trickier task is to get people to care and then to act. You’ve read all this so I guess it’s wrong of me to ask, “do you still care?” but I have to ask these days.

It’s hard to continue to care. For many of us, by the time we heard the non-indictment of Garner come down we were numb. Some of us got numb when we saw loved ones beaten into within an inch of their lives by cops and realized that no one cared—not the grand jury, not internal affairs, not the mayor, not even the politician who promised to get tough on corruption. Some of us have been numbed by what we have access to—hey, who doesn’t want to get that 60 inch on deep discount? Some of us are numb because the cost of caring is reckoning with the vulnerability we all must come to grips with—you may have more degrees than a thermometer but your skin remains a target. We’ve got to care enough to fight.

We’ve got to fight the system. We’ve got to struggle with ourselves. Love ourselves enough to correct ourselves. Love each other enough to remind each other that we got this. That our ancestors have already showed us ways and walk with us now. We’ve got to love so that we can see a new day. When I look at my daughter in resting slumber I get haunted with visions of the reality that she will face. I get scared. I get angry. I fight that with ancestral love. I fight it with knowledge that if we wake up, nothing can put us to sleep. I fight because I love her. I love my nephews. I love my nieces. I love our elders.

Love wins not because we will have some “pie in the sky” kumbaya moment—we won’t, and if there is I ain’t showing up because I know it’d be a sham. Love wins because it stands up to injustice. It doesn’t ask for forgiveness for the person who is stomping on the vulnerable. Love kicks the ass of the person stomping, helps the vulnerable, and tells the one stomping to get help … or get more ass kicking. I don’t mean that literally, well maybe I do. It’s somewhere between what the Bible and George Jackson said. Love is patient …  Patience has its limits. Take it too far and it’s cowardice.

My ancestors want me to be patient, but not a coward. They want me to wake up, to wake my neighbors and to dream. Dream the other world. Build the other world. Fight this world that is trying to rob Black joy and Black life. Remind them Black is beautiful and if you don’t know you’re going to figure it out later, but we got a nation to build, a world to transform, a system to fuck reform overthrow eliminate. We’ve got to sacrifice what’s here to create what should be. I’m not waiting for a grand jury; I’m waiting for my cousin; I’m waiting for my comrades; I’m waiting for us to be sick and tired of being sick and tired. But don’t wait too long. Don’t be too tired.

The last words you hear from Eric Garner on the tape of him being killed are him saying, “I can’t breathe!” I feel him, but I want to change that. I want to make it clear. I can’t breathe; I can’t live right; I can’t stop thinking about the trees cut short before they could grow and give their gifts. I can’t and won’t breathe without thinking about what they came to teach us. I can’t and won’t breathe without remembering there is work to be done. Now the only thing I have left to ask is, “I can’t breathe, can you?”

Right now you can pick up the book (paperback or hardback) at Stanford University Press (use discount code S14SOC) or via Amazon. I’ll be announcing more about its availability in brick and mortar stores as well as in other formats (ibooks, kindle). I look forward to you reading along with me!!

Photo courtesy of Brett Levin

R. L’Heureux Lewis-McCoy is a professor of sociology at the Colin Powell School for Civic and Global Leadership. This month, his book Inequality in the Promised Land: Race, Resources, and Suburban Schooling is being released through Stanford University Press. In this interview with Neighborhoods and Nations, he gives an overview of the research underlying the book’s insights on the everyday, and often insidious, forms of discrimination black students and their families face in schools across America. In doing so, Professor Lewis-McCoy paints a portrait of a new suburban landscape, one that fails to be “the promised land” of broader opportunities and resources that struggling families, particularly people of color, can rely on in equal shares.

How would you contextualize this work in relation to your past and ongoing research? Would you say that ‘race and education’ is a primary focus for you as a sociologist? 

My research for Inequality in the Promised Land continues my ongoing interest in how race and class shape educational opportunity. This year marks 60 years since the US Supreme Court declared in Brown v. Board of Education that “separate facilities are inherently unequal facilities.” When most people think of schools they think of them as the engine of social change or potentially the “great equalizer.” Unfortunately, when we look deeper, we see that schools are a mixed bag—some schools are flying high, while others are failing.

Read More at Neighborhoods and Nations

In President Obama’s last State of the Union address 

The answer is no, but that does not mean the effort is without merit. To create serious traction any effort to help young males of color must battle on two fronts: the empowerment of young males and changing the institutions and systems through which these young males travel. Choosing one front and not the other is a dangerous move.

Read more at Ebony.com.

While cameras follow Idris and Seun, the film is more about their parents’ educational and social negotiations than the boys’. Idris’s parents (Joe Brewster and Michele Stephenson) double as central subjects and filmmakers. A moment that stood out to me was Michele Stephenson’s commentary on their choice to send Idris to a historically and predominantly White private school. “Initially I didn’t want to even go to the interview at Dalton. I didn’t want Idris to be part of this elite school that didn’t give him any sense of grounding or sense of self. You know? A bunch of rich white kids disconnected from the larger world that [are] self-involved etc., etc. But going to the school, experiencing commitment to diversity and comparing it to the other schools that I went to, I finally gave in. I can’t say that I regret it. It’s going to hopefully allow him to compete at the top level with his peers.”  Stephenson’s analysis is like many Black parents who seek high quality education for their children but simultaneously recognize that schools are often alienating to students of color, at best, and devaluing of them, at worst. Seun’s parents share similar concerns about the issues that they face as they steward young Black males through school.

Both families’ initial reservations seem to be well placed, but when we look at Idris’s and Seun’s paths through Dalton their parental concern didn’t necessarily lead to better outcomes. Seun and Idris were the only two Black boys in the class in primary school and soon were referred to special tutoring services to which none of their classmates were referred. As time passed, both families encountered pressure from the school administration to evaluate their sons for learning disabilities and behavioral problems, and both struggled with peer acceptance. Early on in the film Seun is diagnosed with dyslexia and eventually struggles to stay afloat academically at Dalton, leading him to leave Dalton and attend Benjamin Banneker Academy in Brooklyn for high school (a predominantly Black school with an African-centered school philosophy).

Idris remained at Dalton through high school and had a very different educational experience than Seun.  Throughout the film Idris’s parents question the ways Dalton characterizes their son: disruptive, unfocused, hard to manage. His parents highlight his academic acumen but also question his lack of follow through and drive when it comes to academic matters. The school pressures Idris’s parents to test him for ADHD but they resist (it should be noted that Idris’s father is a psychiatrist). In contrast to his parents, Idris wants to be diagnosed because he believes if medicated his test scores may improve, a pattern that he believes has occurred with his classmates. Ultimately he gets assessed and is excited to receive an ADHD diagnosis.

Both Idris and Seun’s experiences reminded me of my educational journey. During my freshman year (and first year) at a similarly elite private school in Connecticut, school administrators encouraged my parents to have me screened for learning issues. Faculty of color at the school privately pulled my parents to the side and informed them that there was a pattern of over-diagnosis of students of color. My parents, excited to have me in such a renowned school, heeded the school administration’s advice to undergo evaluation and ultimately, they were told I had a “learning disability” though no type was ever specified. This led to ” academic accommodations” but also led to teachers treating me differently in the classroom.

The over-diagnosis of Black boys (and to a lesser extent Black girls) with learning disabilities occurs across educational and economic settings. In Inequality in the Promised Land I discuss how parental desires and school staff desires often clash—and what can be done to change that. For many Black parents in well-resourced schools, these dynamics often meant begrudgingly accepting diagnoses they didn’t agree with or being coerced by school cultures that seemed to devalue their children but potentially provided strong academic foundations. This type of trade-off is too common.

In American Promise, we see two families attempt to get the best education for their sons while still dealing with the hazards of race (and to some degree class). The promise of American opportunity will remain unrealized until Black families, as well as poor families, have equal opportunities to reap the benefits of well-resourced schools without suffering pyscho-social consequences along the way.

On Nov. 19, 2013, the University of Michigan’s Black Student Union tweeted, “We want to hear your unique experiences of being Black at University of Michigan! #BBUM.” That Tweet has sparked international conversations and is angling to change the way University of Michigan operates.

While some dismiss “hashtag activism” — the use of social media to raise awareness and sometimes launch campaigns about social issues — the BBUM (Being Black at the University of Michigan) campaign may help prove that activism that emerges via the Internet can shift policy and realities on the ground, particularly when it comes to colleges and universities.

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I have to admit, until recently I didn’t really know who Chief Keef was. I recognized his name from the hit “I Don’t Like,” but not much else. I starting inquiring about him more as he feuded with Lupe Fiasco, Lil Jojo got killed, and people started telling me, “Chief Keef is a problem.” The more I learn about him, the more I feel endeared to and concerned for him, as with many of our young Black males. As the rapper gets more and more attention, we have to realize that he is only one person. And like many of our youth, he is trapped in crises of identity, community and opportunity. Until we start to shift those things we can expect to see more loss in Chicago, Philadelphia, and other metropolitan cities.

Identity Crisis

“Know thyself”— two words that can be as simple or complex as we make them. The process of self-discovery is one fraught with benefit and consequences; nonetheless, it is a journey that all must undergo. While we spend a great deal of time telling our young people what to do and socializing them into what to consume, we often miss the chances to help them discover themselves and help them figure out what their role on the planet is, not just what they can make money doing.

Chief Keef, entrenched in a heavy gang culture, is a prime example. To him, Chicago’s Black Disciples is central to who he is and who he should be. Each of his tweets carries #300, a reference to the gang, and he’s been known to only state his age as “300.” A gang, for many, meets a craving for community; however, as this bleeds into an all-consuming sense of identity, the consequences can be large. Gangs are not likely to leave today or tomorrow. Chicago is no stranger to gangs; in fact, they are so much a part of the city’s history that there have been numerous attempts to organize them for progressive social action and governmental intervention to destabilize political alliances.

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Tips 1 and 2: Strong Summers/After-School Times and Clear Communication with Teachers

Tips 3 and 4: Understand the School’s Behavioral System and Identify Gaps Early

Tip 5: Foster an Intellectual Environment

I hope this creates a dialogue and space for nurturing Black boys to success.

As a child, I used to look forward to the fabled moments in recess and gym class when we would play “girls versus boys.” While rare, it was a chance to go head-to-head with my classmates for gender supremacy. The stakes in gym class were bragging rights at best, but when we look at the current educational landscape, the competition between boys and girls is a bit more complicated. In recent years, we have seen the gender gap—the gap in average scores between males and females—reverse with girls surpassing boys in academic subjects like science and reading. This, not surprisingly, has led to a reincarnation of the battle of boys versus girls. But this time, school culture and societal inequality will be up for grabs.

Recently, David Brooks penned an editorial in the New York Times on the gender gap in our schools. Brooks cited research evidence to suggest that schools are geared towards female students, leaving boys at a disadvantage. This is not a wholly original argument, and the response from Soraya Chemalay suggests that any disadvantages that males face in school are but a microcosm of the larger gender inequities that females face in the world-at-large. While both Brooks and Chemalay are rightfully concerned, we must be careful to ensure that the education of children will not be taken as a zero-sum game, where one gender must win and one gender must lose.

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On Thursday July 26, 2012 President Barack Obama signed an Executive Order creating the White House Initiative for Educational Excellence for African Americans. The initiative creates a commission that is tasked with monitoring and improving the educational performance of African American students. At its best, Obama’s creation of this commission is groundbreaking and signals the start of a national commitment to the educational needs of Black children. At its worst, this could be a political hat tip but provide little force in shifting the trajectory of Black education. What will be the deciding factor between these two? You will be.

The creation of the commission should come as no surprise with the 2012 Election campaign in full swing. This is not to suggest that this is simply political pandering by Obama, rather I’m suggesting that the president knows keeping the African American electorate on his side is essential.

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Summer is finally

For more than two decades, educational researchers have noticed a pattern: during the summer, Black and poor children tend to have their academic growth stunted and in many cases have their educational achievement rolled back. While all kids fall back some in learning during the summer months, poor and Black kids are particularly susceptible to greater fall offs in achievement. This is known as “summer setback” or summer learning loss. Summer learning loss is most often tied to a family’s socioeconomic status (particularly things like income and wealth) and what activities their children do during the summer months.

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I recently found

Unfair? Yes. A safer NYC? Definitely not. I reminded my chat mate that only 2 percent of stops result in contraband being found and that 88 percent didn’t end in any summons or arrest. I told them by any metric it wasn’t effective policing but it could be seen as effective harassment of Black and Latino youth in New York City.

The men’s eyes began to widen as I rattled off statistics and expressed my concern for my younger brothers and sisters who were too often viewed as the embodiment of delinquency by the New York Police Department. One man responded, “That sucks!” I responded, “Until people who are not likely to be stopped and frisked begin to conscientiously object to it, this practice is going to continue.”

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America has entered

From President Obama’s landmark announcement that he supports same sex marriage to Beenie Man posting a video asking for forgiveness of his past homophobic songs, tolerance is in! However, tolerance is not justice. In fact, tolerance basically boils down to finding something unobjectionable. Tolerance is the lowest form of acceptance because it allows one to support in words but not follow up with actions. If we are not careful, our tolerance will only serve to maintain the status quo. If we want to move from tolerance towards justice, it will take more than not objecting to same-sex marriage, it’s going to take a commitment to fight injustice and create safer communities for all. Read More

Despite the rhetoric of change and racial transcendence the schools that our children attend are deeply segregated. In fact, according to scholars like Gary Orfield, schools are more racially segregated now than they were in the Jim Crow South. However, today’s segregation is so pernicious because it is overlooked and we, as a country, continue to fail to address school segregation’s root in housing segregation. If we are to address the issue of quality schooling and segregation we must move beyond two common errors. The first error is believing that segregation is the problem. The second error is believing that segregation is not a problem. Read More

Also, check out the Schott Foundation’s recent report on NYC Schools – “A Rotting Apple: Education Redlining in New York City.”

The recent arrest and charging of George Zimmerman​ with the murder of Trayvon Martin is cause for celebration. However, this is only the beginning of a long struggle for justice, not just for Trayvon but for all. As concerned citizens we can take a second to congratulate ourselves, but we cannot wait too long before channeling the energy of a moment into a movement for justice.

In the past twelve months, the names Trayvon Martin, Troy Davis and Oscar Grant have been forced into the national consciousness via news, protest marches, as well as social media, but as quickly as they’ve come into our minds…they then disappear. I’m not sure if short attention spans drive short news cycles or if short news cycles drive short attention spans, but the two correspond. Recognizing this means we must make sure justice is pursued in each case and that we must also make sure our activism doesn’t end when we feel a case has been settled. Read more

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For some evidence of the percolated conversations, check out this clip of brothers on the yard discussing the article and the greater community.

If you cannot see the video, please click here.

If you cannot see the video, click here.

The achievement gap. These three words have launched a million initiatives, all with the goal of closing the average differences in test scores between black and white students. While more and more people are getting in on education reform and more attention is being placed on it due to films like Waiting for Superman, we cannot make the mistake of thinking that black students who are not in the inner-city are safe from inequality. In fact, the gap in test scores between black and white youth in the suburbs is only slightly smaller than the urban and national gaps that we observe. As we turn out attention towards reforming education, we must think about inequality in the promised lands of suburbs.

Read more here.

Education reform is a hot topic these days, thanks to the recent release of the much-hyped documentary, Waiting for Superman.  Directed by the same team that produced the award-winning An Inconvenient Truth, the documentary takes a hard look at the dilemma of American educational failure. Viewers get a heart-tugging tour de force of issues plaguing low performing American public schools. What viewers do not get, however, is an education on the realities that hamper real reform. The problems that our schools face are complex, but director Davis Guggenheim and crew tell viewers the solutions are simple and “we know what works.” While that’s a powerful statement, there is little research — or reality — to back up that claim.

The truth is, when it comes to implementing education reform, we don’t know for sure what works.

Read more here

For more than a year, I’ve entertained way too many conversations about the shortage of Black men and Black women who remain hopelessly single. I tend to avoid these conversations, because it seems little can come of them other than hurt feelings and finger pointing. Well while reflecting on Ujima, I wondered how the principle could help this discussion given my inbox and twitter feed was abuzz with a recent story on the “crisis” in the Black community. I am certain that the blame game that comes around from discussions of relationships nor is it something that is unique to Black folks. I however realize it can come into special relief when we begin to talk about the numbers of Black women and men that are not married or the number of “out-of-wedlock” births that we have. The “crisis” of the Black family is not new, the placing of blame on Black women is not new, blaming men is not new, but the repackaging of it continues to draw attention and the opposite of productive discussion, mainly it ends up being a new opportunity for us to sidestep personal work, overlook progress, and undermine community work.

The principle of Ujima asks that we all acknowledge our role in the current condition and collectively work to repair it, this seldom happens in the current discourse. The recent Washington Post profile of Helena Andrews and the Nightline segment on unmarried Black women have kept us consumed with chatter. The Nightline segment features a number of sisters talking about the dilemma of being single and successful and then they’re joined by relationship guru comedian (who is asked to speak on a serious social issue) Steve Harvey. Harvey offers some commentary on the women’s aesthetic beauty, says older men failed to socialize younger males, and then tells the sisters to date older men to fulfill what the story purports as “missing.” The story created quite a buzz and part of it, I’d say, is due to the way the piece is framed. The piece highlights an ever declining population of marriagable men and high achieving women, pitting men against women in a zero sum game which results in a decaying Black family. When I saw the piece I didn’t get bent out of shape about it and reach for a lighter to reignite the battle of the sexes,  instead I saw a more promising narrative on mate selection, accomplishment, and community. This was, in part, because I listened to the voices of the sisters, rather than the voice that framed the piece. If you listen to the women’s testimonies they articulate clear expectations, a desire to settle down, but not the desire to settle. Quite the opposite of what is popularly emphasized where sisters have unrealistic standards, are hungry to trap men, and emasculate the men in their lives. Their voices and stories, like so many that I’ve read or watched on the topic, get twisted and are used to suggest there is more space for discontent and disunity than for collective work and responsibility.

The reality, as I see it, is that the changing forms of family, gender, and community mandate that we not look at each other and assume we will replicate the systems of the past. This doesn’t mean a total disavowal of what we had, but it often means me must acknowledge what we used in the past may not work today. In order to begin collective work we have to agree upon a problem or set of problems, which I’m not sure we do. What if what one called a problem another saw as an evolution and a success? Too often we assume marriage is the bedrock for a strong community, however family is much more-so. And family, for African-Americans and people of African descent has been defined in many ways that clash the mythos of the nuclear family. Are we ready to begin the work of collective uplift be acknowledging we may not be all shooting at the same target of family? Are we ready to acknowledge the role that emotional scars hold for men and women in choosing partners? Are we ready to move beyond discussions of “baby mama” drama and enter the work of  co-parenting? These are some of the questions and topics I’d love to see tackled so that we may truly begin to see our brothers and sisters problems as our own, as well as, our brothers and sisters strengths as our own. From there we can begin to do the work of collective work and responsibility for the Black community.

Yusef’s challenge to himself is paired with raising funds for the Coalition for the Homeless. His site contains all the information you could want to know and great personal reflections on the experience before he began the week. He will continue to update the site when he returns from his stay. I wanted to shout him out for taking action, learning, and pushing us all to contribute not just money but serious thoughts to one of the world’s most pressing issues. If you can, please do donate to the campaign. While he will only remain homeless until Saturday, most people do not have a choice in when they receive shelter again. So he will continue until May 1st or until he reaches his goal of 5000 dollars to donate. Please spread the word!!!!

What would our communities look like if we concentrated on contributing positively to each other lives, rather than concentrating on accruing financial capital? Basically, the desire to make money often takes precedent over our ability to contribute to each others well being. One of the consistent themes that I hear these days is “when I was growing up, we didn’t have much but we made due….” These types of narratives hinge on the idea that community has existed in the presence of few financial resources and may even be strengthened if we play our cards right. When we had little, we gave a lot to keep all our boats afloat. One of my favorite anthro books (don’t tell anyone) is All Our Kin by Carol Stack. It really outlines how cooperative economics need not hinge upon how much money you have or how much your neighbor has. As the financial crunch hits Black folks the hardest, we’d do well to think of economics beyond financial capital and work on social capital and cultural capital for the uplift of our community. After all, I know that kwanzaa credit card looked hot, but I doubt it will contribute to our collective transformation.

*Yes, I feel off the daily post wagon, but I’m going to finish out the principles of Kwanzaa because this is a year round thing, not seven days!

Over the past week, the media and everyone who could jump on the bandwagon of wagging fingers, frowned brows, and we told you so’s in relation to the Big Three has. While I don’t think all of these sentiments are misplaced, I wonder the most about the people of Detroit, not the Big 3. I’ll make a clear distinction here. The Big 3 being GM, Ford, and Chrysler represent the business interests of the automotive industry. The people of the Detroit Metro area are beneficiary’s and burden bearers of the Big Three’s ability to remain solvent and even profitable in these turbulent financial times. Pretty much we’ve come to the point that industry is realizing that we’re pretty far down the rabbit hole and major changes are going to come down the line. The thing that both scares, and maybe even reassures me a little, is that Detroit has been at the bottom before.

Detroit remains the classic example of the “failed city” the “dead city” the city that was forgotten. Well, while the economics, politics, and social organization of Detroit has been on decline for years, the people and their commitment to change has not been. In many ways, the one thing that these stories don’t talk about are the people in Detroit who despite increasing layoffs, increasing segregation, asset sucking casinos and odds that increasingly mount against them, continue to fight to build a better Detroit.

There is a boatload of critical work happening in education there. There is the push for viable public transportation. There is the movement to slow the “invisible hand” of foreclosures. There is work on urban space and converting brown fields. There is a vibrant arts scene. These people and these voices will remain invisible. Sure, their voices will never get as much press as the Big Three, but they demonstrate a resilience that the rest of the nation is going to have to come to grips with really soon. The age of watching industry fall in one area and not have it affect another is gone. Are fates have been intimately linked and we’ll see these connections with even greater consequence during this financial debacle.

The way people from Detroit tend to get mentioned in these discussions is if they are sitting around getting fat off of union pensions and benefits. If you’ve been to Detroit, lived in Detroit, or know folks who have worked for years for the Big Three, it’s simply not the truth. As we watch the Big Three scramble for assistance, be sure to watch who gets thrown under the bus first. Is it the 20,000 dollar jets or the family that lives on 30,000 a year?

For those who don’t know, Morehouse is my alma mater and I hold her near and dear to my heart. I have always wished that Morehouse offered a freshman year course like Spelman College’s African Diaspora and the World, but one that focused on issues of gender privilege, sexuality, and leadership. Maybe we will get there someday… hopefully soon.

As I passed the State building, I watched homeless citizens hover on concrete benches. As they lay resting, it almost looked like they were at perfect peace. Like the stone that was their pallet was made by Sealy mattresses, but that’s likely not true. As they lay huddled beneath Adam Clayton Powell with his top coat flapping in the wind, I began to wonder what he would have thought? Did he think about these Harlemites? I began to wonder, do today’s heroes of Harlem think about them?

The juxtaposition of the consummate Black political figure to the Black homeless was more than a sight. A sight would be too transient, too dissimive, too temporary. No, for the folks seeking refuge under ACP’s cape, poverty was not temporary or passing, it was their long term reality. As Harlem undergoes yet another Renaissance I wonder what is to come of the folks who never saw the booms of prosperity? The folks that didn’t have leases to be tricked out of. Are the stares that folks shoot them on 125th tonight the same as the stares that newcomers to Harlem will shoot them in 10 years? Or will they even be there?

As an onlooker I had like ten things going through simultaneously.Here were a few, “what would I have done if it was my pocket?” I wondered, “Why didn’t you say anything?” “Should you call the cops?” “What good would calling the cops do?” When the issues of the world become personal, are we able to understand and contextualize behavior or do we go back to saying folks who do crime, etc. are just deviant? It’s too easy to dismiss the situation and suggest that the offender is just a bad apple. It’s also too simple to say that there are no jobs. In both cases, we know NOTHING about the life of the guy who attempted the pickpocket. But I think when things become personal, we too easily forget about the context that informs the behaviors folks employ to “make it.” In many conversations among friends and colleagues, over the years, I’ve heard folks provide context to all sorts of actions but when it came to their personal well being being threatened discussions began to sound like AM talk radio. When the sociological becomes personal, what is your first reaction… and your second?

Nas’ song has been burning through my head as of late. Could be the late nights, early morning, the travelling, the writing, but whatever it is, it’s in my head. The events of the past week with Don Imus really made me think about the traditions that we carry on or let go. After a week Imus has been dropped from TV and Radio syndication, largely as the result of two folks who will inevitablely be chastised, berated and hated. The names Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton are (in)famous. In talking to people, even the ones who have no clear “politics”, they can always muster an opinion on Jesse and Al and “the old civil rights guard.” What’s yours? I’m going to give you some of mine below.

I guess part of this is written in defense of Jesse and Al, especially when I see more and more people calling for their ‘removal from office’ or any other downgrading metaphor. We all know neither of them are elected officials, but even without election, they “play their position.” When many folks see Jesse and Al they look at them as glorified camera and victim chasers, but honestly have you ever thought that it’s the cameras that chase them now? Now granted to get the attention they now garner, they had to chase some cameras over the years, but as a dear friend once pointed out to me, when Jesse and Al show, the media shows. Even whenJesse and Al threaten to bring the cameras out change gets facilitated. Now I don’t think these are the brothas and sistahs who are in the trenches locally every day, that would be ridiculous to suggest, but sometimes they get the shine to those who need it in the trenches. The combination of their visibility and hard grassroots work can lead to some really impressive outcomes.

Sure Foxnews will wield Tawana Brawley and Hymietown references as their alpha & omega, but for all their “failures” haven’t they brought some justice forth?As we step out to combat injustice the targets on our back become large, sometimes it blows up in our faces, but nonetheless, shouldn’t we remain committed? Who has the committment and conviction to speak out on these things?

So when we talk about removing the old guard and redefining our goals as a people, who will carry on tradition? For that matter, should tradition even be carried on? Surely Al and Jesse aren’t the only tradition we have. If you go to any locale you will find small time heroes who lead big lives, but never get/got the respect they deserve. Over in Benton Harbor a warrior is imprisoned. In Detroit a warrior slashes weekly with her pen. A month ago we saw a legend give his last public words down the street from where much of it all began. The struggles we engage in daily are local, but are at same time global.

A couple years back I really anticipated Todd Boyd’s book the New HNIC: The Death of Civil Rights and the Reign of Hip Hop anxiously. But when I finally read it, I was disappointed. Mainly because questions of renewal and redefinition of the movement were largely glazed over or missed. As the young vanguard, do we believe in leaders? What does new leadership look like if so? What will be the moments that define our lives and our children’s lives, because always remember a few short moments can change the course of history.

The heresy with which Michigan residents were disgusted by the prospect of Abraham being eligible for programs designed for abandoned youth, is the same disgust they should have felt when he was tried as an adult. It is the same disgust that we should hold when young men and women of color are released back into a society with few social supports. To me, it’s not a mystery that when a person, is isolated from social opportunities from childhood, and then you force them to “participate” fully there will be issues. As the old adage goes, “you gotta crawl before you ball.” Spending nearly half your life in prison cannot prepare you to succeed outside of prison. As the cameras snapped images of a man in outlandish attire, I could only see a manchild.

Recently when I was spending time with my little brother who is 11 and we began talking about independence and what his mother let’s him do. A typical conversation among pre-teens. As we talked, eventually we ended up telling him the story of Nathaniel Abraham, he looked on in shock and disbelief. My little brother is smart, top of his class, has his “head on straight” and I quickly realized the idea of leaving society and returning in 9 years was unimaginable. He, probably like most 11 year olds, found the prospect hard to swallow. As we talked more he repeatedly asked me questions like, “What happened to Nathaniel?” “Why’d he do (the murder) what he did?” These were difficult questions to answer. I still cannot fully answer them, but even my inability to answer speaks volumes.

I wonder about Nathaniel, not simply because he’s a human, but because I wonder what kind of world produces a manchild like him. I remember reading Fox Butterfield’s account of Willie Bosket and thinking that he told part of the story. Though I may not be able to retrace Nathaniel’s life, I’m sure there are more than enough elements that would trouble us. While the national cameras usually fixate on Detroit as a city in decline or post decline, seldom do people think of Pontiac. Pontiac, which sits not far from Detroit, is just as ripe with social ills and dangers: high amounts of crime, drugs, unemployment, and single headed households. While we all love the stories of “beating the odds” and want to highlight the exceptions to the rules of poverty, these stories are in many ways disingenuous. I think Nathaniel represents the rule, the rule that we need to grapple with, simply put: Your chances for success (however you define it) are severely limited (if not eliminated) if you grow up poor, Black, and male in America.

As the media spins images of Nathaniel “pimping the system” and people grow concerned that a “monster” lives on state support, we still have to ask, what/who created this “monster”? In reality, we all did. When we neglect and ignore the conditions of the youth, particularly poor and Black youth, we are assured that Nathaniel will not be the last Nathaniel. When there is bipartisan support for cutting social programs, we assure the development of the manchild. When we assume that things “aren’t that bad” because we can see downtown Detroit open a few shops, we ink poor children’s fates. Unfortunately, there will be more Nathaniels, people locked away with little ability to transition back into “society.” So the next time you hear of them getting “social support” before you ask “How could this happen?” you should ask “How did this happen?” In my estimation, his apartment and some tuition are a pittance compared to the life that we allowed Nathaniel to live before. Lastly, ask yourself, if you were Nathaniel, could you live up to the request of Judge Eugene Moore, “Show us all that you have become a caring, productive member of society”, without assistance.

I tend to let my mind ferment during the evening by watching reality TV or playing my Nintendo DS (oh it’s so great!). Tonight, I opted for Reality TV. I decided to watch the Real World Denver (no I don’t think I have a real reason to watch this trash, but I did). Tonight’s episode was yet another “big race episode” (this reminds me of when they would say things like, “Next week, a very special Webster” remember that? I digress). The characters end up in a tussle and the N word is barked by a drunken White male, Davis, within earshot of at least one Black roommate. I’ll summarize so you don’t have to watch the episode, they (producers) take the White roommate away for the night to a hotel and he returns the next day so the cast can talk it out. The result, the Black roommates forgive him and he says… you guessed it, “I’m not racist.” One Black roommate Tyrie asked him (and I paraphrase) “So I just want to know, when you used that word. Where did it come from? Is that something you’ve been thinking or did it come out of anger or…?” Davis quickly responded, “Out of anger.” This was particularly important to me because I knew once Tyrie gave him an “out” – mentioning anger, he would immediately jump at that reason. The episode closes with the Black roommates forgiving him and Davis staying so he can show them he can “watch what he says” and “he’s not a racist.” Dammit, you are a racist!

Now if any of you reading have had the pleasure (or pain) of sitting in on one of my guest lectures on race and ethnicity you know about this. Towards the beginning of the lecture I have all the people in attendance point to their neighbor and say, “You’re a racist” and then have them point to their other neighbor and say, “You’re a racist.” After people follow in a Pavlovian style they usually look back at me, half of them with some form of pissed expression. I then allay their fears by saying, “Now that everyone has been called a racist and called at least one person a racist, we can stop being scared of being labeled a racist.” The label racist is avoided like Jehovah’s Witness’ on a Saturday morning.

Now being the good sociologist that I am, I know that is because most people associate racism with individual deliberate actions towards someone of a subordinate group that are meant to harm and are based on prejudice. Which really means that nobody wants to be considered a Klan member (well except of course Klan members who are out of the closet). That’s the big problem, when I’m in a room of over 150 people and I ask, “Who is a racist?” and maybe one or two people raise their hands, we have a problem!!! The problem is not anger, the problem is not drunkeness, the problem is not hecklers and losing our cool, it’s racism! I know you want a nice out or absolution, I know you want to prove you’re not that bad word, but dammit you gotta claim it to change it.

Imagine this, you go the doctor, you ask him about a piercing headache you keep on having. The headache is usually bearable but on occasion it causes you to yelp in pain for others to hear. The doctor takes does a full exam, xrays, scans, etc. and sees you have a tumor on your brain. When the doctor comes back to talk to you and you ask the doc, “Am I alright?” The doc responds, “You have a cold.” A cold, hell nawh you have cancer!!! Racism is a disease, one that needs to be addressed. Unfortunately everyday we ask the world not to label ourselves or others as racist, which drives us further away from curing the sickness of racism. A doctor who prescribed Ludens to you (you know those cough drops you always wanted because they tasted like candy but your momma wouldn’t let you have them) instead of chemo would be in serious malpractice and in violation of the their oath. But everyday, people ask me, “Why do we have to say someone is racist?” “Can’t we call it something else? or “I get what you’re saying, but calling someone a racist is ugly.” Racism is ugly!!! I could go into my definition of racism but here is a link to a basic definition of racism that should get you started. If you’re already with me, read on.

For me, dropping the term racist from our lexicon weakens our ability to call everyone to the task of being accountable for inequality. Admittedly not all inequality is racial, but many of the social ills that we see have a strong racial component. To borrow from Beverly Tatum racism is like pollution, you may not have started it, but you must live with it and everyday your actions contribute to it. The true question is what are you going to do to reduce it? By ignoring racism and the people and institutions that perpetuate it, we retard social progress. Because we have dropped racist from our lexicon, racial discrimination (disproportionate impact) does not legally exist until animus is demonstrated. Because we stopped calling out people as being racist, the very people who support systems of oppression now label us racists. Because racist became perverted, some are now distorted enough to think the oppressed are the oppressors.

I know this getting way too long, but let me conclude by saying, we live in a world without racists, but in a world full of racism. While I am forgiving, reasonable, and solution oriented, it disturbs me to see us sidestep the root of the hatred that we see in the disparate worlds we live in and in the malice ridden words we speak. I’d rather have chemo than candy. Wouldn’t you?

Now you can say I am unfairly characterizing a group, White men, on this guys response, but trust me, I had a number of guys be not so kind to me after the survey. I don’t think it was simply the people who I bumped into today, but this country and Metro Detroit has a serious silence on the dialogue of race. Now Detroit is the most segregated major metro area. Want the evidence of it? I spoke to people who have lived over 10 years in the suburbs of Detroit who admitted to me that they had only been into the city 2 or 3 times. When I informed some people I wanted to get their opinions about Metro Detroit they said things like, “Well I don’t know anything about the Detroit area.” Ladies and Gentleman, if you live in the same county, less than 8 miles from the city limits, you may be a part of the Metro Detroit area. I didn’t make the term up, hell if you watch the news they say it at least 30 times each morning. But somehow, White Metro Detroiters, seem to consider themselves autonomous, and in many ways are. If you live in a completely segregated space, attend segregated work, and socialized in segregated ways, you are autonomous. But if you live in those conditions then why not talk about race?

Well because talking about race means that someone is going to play that dreaded card. That’s right, there is always a hold card tucked deep in my hand. It’s more powerful then a flush and apparently all Black folks are adept at playing it, it’s the race card. I think the term the race card is really interesting in that it immediately trivializes social experience. There is nothing cool or joyous about being pulled over and having police officers approach your car with their gun drawn because you’re a young Black man. There is nothing fun about being followed around stores when you’re really trying to buy something. There is nothing amusing about living in substandard conditions because you inherit the debits of your family’s “misfortune.” When I talk about race, I’m not playing shit, I’m telling you my experience. Don’t discount my experience because you have lived a different one than me. I don’t discount your experiences. What if I said, “Oh he’s playing the class card.” People don’t say that, because folks who are White, Black, Asian, Latin@, Purple know that social class matters. Isn’t it peculiar that race and ethnicities, which are just as “socially real” as social class, are part of a game.

There are so many rhetorical tricks around the issue of race in the country that silence the dialogue. If you want some good reading on them check out Eduardo Bonilla-Silva. I think the first step to real dialogue about race and opportunity is realizing that no one here is playing a card or a game. The stakes of segregation, discrimination and deprivation are real. See cause if this was a game, I would be holding chips under the table, because the race card doesn’t seem to “win” me much. Ah man, I’ll write more later.

One of the reasons I cried was that for someone who studies race and children everyday, in someways I have to believe or want to believe “things have changed.” Her “replication” of the doll study, was the thing got me gushing tears. As a social scientist I’ve toiled over, rationalized, and critiqued the Clark findings by saying, well the doll was painted, etc. which had an effect … blah, blah, fucking blah! There is something powerful and clear about this video. Scientifically we’ll always debate self-esteem among African-Americans, but I’m not sure science can tell us some of the things that we’re living.

The title of the post comes from my tour guide on the “Tour of Black Montreal”. Our tour guide was a 50 year old White man who was of French descent. I should have known the tour was going to be shady when he told us that he was going to give us “a standard” tour of Montreal and highlight some Black history. Well, for two hours, I sat on a bus, along with about 50 Black sociologists and we heard him randomly mention Black people. I learned that there are two Black communities in Montreal: the Black English and the Astians (that’s Haitian to you none French speakers ;) I also learned that the World Expo of ’67 changed his life and he met people from Africa and that the Africans loved the Expo so much they just decided to stay. I learned that lgbtq prefer to be called “sexual minorities” because it’s politically correct.

I also learned that there are no ghettos in Montreal, which is interesting. Well really interesting because my friend stayed in a “hotel” in the “red light district” and while walking her to her door, I saw two drug transactions, a fight, and we had to ask the resident prostitutes to move off the stoop so she could get in. Come to think of it, it does make sense there are no ghettos, cause there are no poor or homeless. After all, I learned from our guide that there are enough social services and that anyone I saw on the street (those who we in the States would consider homeless), wanted to be on the street. I mean even if it does get down to -37c (-34.6f) according to our tour guide. They just didn’t want to go into shelters. I guess the human condition is just different in Montreal.

Well maybe not, my friends came across “The Illuminated Crowd” Statue on McGill, it’s pretty intense.

A visitor to downtown Montreal almost can’?t help walking by a large sculptural group outside a bank building on McGill College Avenue. Called The Illuminated Crowd, the work is by the European artist, Raymond Masson, and it was installed in 1986. It’?s made of polyester resin painted a kind of vanilla yellow and itÂ?s a crowd, all right! Dozens of figures, from the frenzied to the serene, seem to jostle each other for a place on the sidewalk. According to the descriptive text, the piece deals with the nature of man, violence and hope and the quest for the ideal. According to this writer, it’?s one of those works that divide people into two groups Â? those who love it vs. those who hate it. Quote from Montreal Behind the scenes

Here are some more views of it (1,2,3,4). Well I’m back and still black at Michigan so I’m gonna get to working.

Update: I neglected to mention that at the close of the ABS conference we shared the hotel with Anthrofest aka a Furry convention. Now I wonder what my tour guide would have referred to them as???

On the global level, racial or ethnic divisions can be seen, but not necessarily in the fashion that we construct them here. A couple of years ago a I had a student come up to me and tell me that he was trying to explain to an African immigrant to this country that he was Black. He said, “Man, Dumi I tried to tell him, but he just didn’t understand.” Besides feeling shame for having clearly produced a student who missed the nuascences in these social categorizations, I was reminded that my student, like most people read the US constellations of race and ethnicity as global. This shouldn’t be suprising, hell, most Americans see the rest of the world through their own positionality. It is not to say that we all don’t have a unique view point, but Americans seem to seldom interrogate why they view the world as they do. Who is Black? Who is White? Who is male? Who is female? All of these answers can vary dependent upon where you are. So why do American insist on reading race, in particular, in a US centric fashion? Maybe because sometimes it fits or does it?

Recently, the state of Michigan has been ripe with discusion of this ad. You’ll have to enlarge the ad to read the text. Essentially it talks about how when Jesse Owens in 1936 campaigned for a Republican candidate. In the quote Owens explains he campaigned for him because when he won his gold neither Roosevelt nor Hitler would shake his hand, but the Republican candidate did. The ad goes on to explain how African Americans have long been treated poorly by the democrats and now it’s time for a change (I assume he wants me to vote for Dick DeVoss). I think the ad is pretty interesting for its imagery and argument. Also shout out to Daily Kos for publishing it. I had a hard time locating it, probably because of the Hitler image. For the past five years or so, I keep hearing Republicans and members of the right talk about how African-Americans are considered a given to the Democrats and how we’ve been SO mistreated, so we should really not show our allegiance. This type of reasoning always reminds me of the quote “No permanent enemies, no permanent allies, only permanent interests.” So I ask, what the hell interest does the right have for my condition?

I agree that democrats have been “hoeing” us for a long time. I agree that we are one of the most reliable blocks, but honestly the other side of the fence doesn’t seem to have my interests at heart. Let me count the ways: 1) anti-felon voting rights, 2)disproportinate sentencing, 3) reduced social spending, 4) anti-affirmative action, 5) increased military presence internationally… and the list goes on and on like Shyheim. Good try on the ad fellas, but please do realize we’re a little smarter than seeing a set of images and thinking what was in the past, is in the present. The context of Owens’ life (domestically and internationally) was one of exclusion and hatred and in many ways, African-Americans’ lives remain analogous. But I think we’re clear who won’t shake our hands now… ain’t that Right?

And on a related note kinda, how about that World Cup finish?